


Just Breathe

by earth_dragon



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, hurt!misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earth_dragon/pseuds/earth_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a joke. This was a stupid, bad, ill-timed joke and he was going to kick Misha’s ass for it. He was going to march right into that trailer and just kick Misha’s ass!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> le-clair-obscur over on Tumblr tossed out a prompt that I just had to run with. She wanted to see Misha injured after a prank gone wrong on the SPN set. This is the result.

Jensen was still laughing. Jensen was gonna be laughing for the next ten years. Oh, they had gotten Misha but GOOD! Not once, but twice, they managed to pie him in the face, and even on the same day. Misha was going to run out of clean clothes to wear before the week was out if this kept up.

 

Jensen’s phone buzzed in his pocket and, still laughing, he fished it out and checked his messages. One new from Misha Collins: _“Help! N trailer. Plz come!”_

 

Oh no. Nope.

 

If Misha thought he was gonna get him back that easily, he was very much mistaken. Oh, Jensen knew he was going to have to watch his back for the next several weeks; Jared was too. Misha would want some revenge, and rightfully so. But this? This was just lame. He was going to have to try harder.

 

His phone buzzed again and Jensen thumbed open the new message. _“PLZ HELP! JEN PLZ COME!”_

 

“Lame!” Jensen laughed out loud, a bounce in his step.

 

A third text arrived: _“PLZ HELP ME! PLZ COME JENSEN! NOW!”_

 

Alright, enough was enough. Smirking, Jensen decided to deal with the situation head on. He dialed Misha’s number. It rang four times before Misha finally answered.

 

“Jen…”

 

“You’re lame Misha! C’mon, you know you have to wait at least a day or two before you’re gonna fool anybody. You think I’m falling for this?”

 

Misha’s breath sounded rattled on the other end. “Jen… need…”

 

A prickle began to dance up the back of Jensen’s neck, but still he hesitated. He chuckled again, but it felt a little forced. “What? What do you need?”

 

“Epi pen…” Misha wheezed out.

 

“What?” Jensen stopped walking. This was a joke, right? This was just Misha’s idea of a lame, bad joke. Really, he ought to go kick his ass for it.“What did you say?”

 

“‘lergic to somethin’,” Misha coughed, his voice rattled. He tried to draw in a full breath but it just wheezed and Jensen could hear his lungs squeak. “Can’t breathe! Jen, can’t… breathe…”

 

Jensen hit the ground running.

 

This was a joke. This was a stupid, bad, ill-timed joke and he was going to kick Misha’s ass for it. He was going to march right into that trailer and just kick Misha’s ass!

 

You don’t make a joke out of something like this. You don’t damn prank call someone and pretend to be suffocating. It’s cruel! They never did anything like that to him. They never scared him in such a horribly cruel way. And all for a joke.

 

Because it WAS just a joke. Jensen’s mind refused to believe it was true. He refused to believe Misha had stopped breathing.

 

He refused to believe that Misha had reached out to him for help and he hadn’t believed him.

 

Jensen ran all the way across the lot until he got to Misha’s trailer, he hopped up the trailer steps and threw open the door with a bang. “Misha, I swear to God if you’re fucking with me, I’m gonna --”

 

But then his heart stopped. It just stopped cold.

 

Misha was lying on the floor, crumpled on his side, his phone still clutched in his hand. A drawer in the kitchenette area had been yanked open, its contents spilled out across the floor, as if Misha had been desperately trying to find something but collapsed before it could be located.

 

Epi pen! That was what he had said on the phone.

 

Jensen ran over to Misha and dropped to the floor. Thankfully he could still hear Misha’s strained, wheezing breath, but the man was barely conscious and unable to talk. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, his lips and cheeks swollen.

 

Jensen frantically scattered through the contents on the floor, just as desperate now as Misha must have been before. “It’s gotta be here. It’s gotta be here! C’mon dammit!” Finally, FINALLY, he found it rolled under the edge of the kitchenette cabinet. He snatched the Epi Pen up, ripped it open, and jabbed it hard into Misha’s thigh.

 

The effect was immediate. Misha’s eyes had been glassy and half closed, but now they flew open. His whole body stiffened and he gasped. Oxygen began to flood back into his lungs and he coughed, struggling to take it all back in.

 

Jensen ran back to the door and screamed out, calling for medical personnel; people nearby jumped but could immediately see he was serious and ran to get the medical staff.

 

“Jen…”

 

Jensen turned back around and saw Misha looking up at him. He looked bad, with his face swollen and a bluish tinge to his color. His lungs still wanted to rattle but they didn’t seem as bad as before. Jensen immediately came to him and knelt in the floor. He braced Misha back against his chest. He wanted to hold him, wanted to squeeze him tight and not let him go, but he knew Misha couldn’t handle that right now. “I’m here. I’m here Mish. I’m right here. Medics are coming. They’ll fix you right up, ok.”

 

“I couldn’t breathe.”

 

“I know. Don’t try to talk just yet, ok. You’re gonna be ok.”

 

“Didn’t know if you were coming.”

 

Misha’s voice, though still faint and so rough, cut through Jensen like a dagger. He had to grit his teeth to keep the tears at bay. “Just don’t… don’t talk right now, ok. Just focus on getting your breath back.”

 

Fortunately medics came bursting through the door right then, with equipment and far more knowledge about how to handle this kind of situation. They shooed Jensen out of the way and placed an oxygen mask on Misha’s face, helping him to breath deeper, to reopen his lungs and get air back into his blood and tissues.

 

Jensen stood back and watched them work but he never took his eyes of Misha, off the rise and fall of his chest. After about twenty minutes, some oxygen, and some additional medicine, medics decided Misha was pretty much stable but he should be taken to the hospital for observation just in case.

 

Misha was loaded onto a stretcher, but before they got him out the door he pulled the oxygen mask off his face and muttered “Please come” over to Jensen. And that was a request Jensen was never, ever going to ignore again.

 

~~*~~

 

It took about two hours before Misha was finally settled in a room. Jensen hadn’t been allowed back with him while the doctors were doing their examination and tests, but God he had wanted to be. Finally, though, Misha was in a private room and Jensen was allowed in to see him. He pushed the door open with some hesitation. Misha had asked him to come, to be there, but somehow he didn’t feel he had the right.

 

Misha, however, smiled brightly when he saw Jensen’s face poke around the side of the door. “Hey, come in!”

 

Jensen was relieved to see Misha looking so much better; the swelling had gone down in his face, and the only blue tinge left was in his remarkable eyes. His voice was still a little rough; he sounded more like Castiel than Misha. And he was wearing a nose cannula, still hooked to an oxygen machine, but the full face mask was thankfully gone.

 

“Misha, hey.”

 

Misha began removing the cannula and Jensen rushed over. “Hey no! You’re supposed to have that on.”

 

“Oh, I don’t really need it now,” Misha protested, frowning.

 

“Well, they think you do. So please put it back.”

 

“Jensen,” Misha groused.

 

“Please Misha, just put it back.”

 

Misha peered at him a little oddly, but he did as Jensen asked. And Jensen was able to breathe easier for it.

 

“So, you ok?”

 

Jensen barked a hard laugh. “Am I ok? Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

 

“I’ll be fine. I know what happened.”

 

“Yeah, I do too. You stopped breathing!”

 

“But I’m not the one having a freak out about it,” Misha pointed out.

 

Jensen huffed and slumped down into a chair. “What the hell was that? What happened?”

 

“I had an allergic reaction.”

 

“To what?”

 

Misha didn’t answer; his eyes darted away from Jensen’s. Jensen immediately knew something was wrong. He sat up and focused directly on Misha. “To what?” he demanded. “What are you allergic to?”

 

“Peanuts,” Misha answered. “Cas may be able to eat a peanut butter sandwich, but I can’t.”

 

“Well, if you know you’re allergic to peanuts why did you eat them?” Jensen fumed.

 

“I didn’t. Or I didn’t know I was.” Again Misha’s eyes drifted off; he shifted nervously on the bed.

 

Jensen eyed him warily. Again, that prickly feeling began to crawl up his spine. “Misha, what aren’t you telling me? What is it?”

 

“They think it was the pie,” Misha muttered.

 

Jensen gaped at him. His heart dropped down into his stomach. “WHAT? THE PIE? There were no peanuts in the pie!”

 

“No, but oftentimes prepackaged foods are prepared on tables or conveyor belts where other foods are prepared, including peanuts. It has to be labeled now on all packaged foods because so many people have peanut allergies.”

 

“But you were hit with a pie earlier and this didn’t happen!” Jensen exclaimed, his chest squeezing sickly.

 

“That one must have been prepared somewhere else.”

 

“But… So you mean I...” Jensen stammered.

 

“You couldn’t have known,” Misha reassured him.

 

“I did this,” Jensen groaned, letting guilt wash over him.

 

He had nearly killed Misha for a prank. For a God damned prank! And then he hadn’t wanted to believe him when Misha sent the texts saying he needed help. “But you chased me. You were rough-housing with me,” he tried to reason.

 

“I didn’t actually ingest any of the pie until after that,” Misha explained. “I was heading back to the trailer to clean up again and I licked my lips. I ingested some of it then. By the time I got to my trailer, I knew something was wrong.”

 

Jensen dropped his head and let tears wash over his eyes and down his cheeks. “Oh my God, I nearly killed you!”

 

Misha scooted across the bed until he could reach Jensen in the chair, and then he smacked Jensen hard across the back of the head.

 

“OW! Hey, what --”

 

Misha grabbed his face in both his firm hands and gave him a fierce look. “Now you just stop it! You hear me? You just stop it right now!”

 

“Misha, I --”

 

“Shut up! I’m not gonna listen to this. You. Did not. Know. For one thing, you didn’t even know I was allergic to peanuts. And for another, hardly anyone thinks to check food labels for possible allergies unless they have the allergy themselves. You are not allergic to peanuts, so why would you have bothered to check the label?”

 

“But Misha!”

 

“I will smack you again!”

 

Jensen looked into Misha’s burning eyes. He still felt guilty as hell, but Misha wasn’t going to let him shoulder the blame. It had been a true accident. He absolutely would have never done such a thing, to Misha or anyone, if he knew there was any possibility of an allergy.

 

But he was damn sure going to be a lot more careful about food labels from now on.

 

“Ok,” he relented. “Ok. I am still sorry and I am going to say that. You scared me to death, seeing you lying there like that, knowing you couldn’t breathe. But yeah, it was an accident. You know I would never have done something like that on purpose.”

 

“I know that, Jensen. Of course I know that.” Misha’s fingers stroked across the damp skin of Jensen’s face, wiping away the stray tears, telling him silently not to let anymore loose because there was no need. He wasn’t forgiven because he had never been blamed in the first place.

 

“You came,” Misha whispered. “When I needed you, you came.”

 

“I will always come when you need me, Misha,” Jensen vowed, slipping his hands around Misha’s where they still gripped his face. “You know that, don’t you?”

 

“I know that.” Misha smiled gently and touched their foreheads together, letting them rest there quietly for a moment.

 

Jensen just enjoyed the closeness and the sound of Misha’s breathing.

 


End file.
